


Ready

by BethAlex



Series: Ready [1]
Category: Torchwood, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Gen, M/M, White Collar end of season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAlex/pseuds/BethAlex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal gets kidnapped - and a new lease on life.</p>
<p>Written before season six aired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DieAstra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieAstra/gifts).



> Thank you for your help with this; and for being my friend. *hugs*

A dark blanket over his head, hands tied and anklet gone, Neal was bewildered and frightened.

There had been so much satisfaction in the voice that announced this man was going to be the last person on Earth to know where he was. Yet, the hands that held him down were firm, but not rough. No threats, no punches. Just silent transport to wherever they were headed.

It was hot. Unbearably hot. His shirt was sticking to his back, and his hair was damp with sweat. Why was the damn car so hot? Was the heater broken?

These thugs were not the people who wanted him. There was somebody else. Somebody big and mean. Neal sighed. He had had his fair share of bastards. Why now? More importantly, who? 

The anklet had been removed, the FBI would start looking. But where would they look? With Peter headed to Washington, would they even care enough to keep at it? Mozzie would come for him, no doubt about that. How long would it take?

Survive, Neal thought. That’s all you need to do. Survive long enough for somebody to find you.

After what seemed like ages, the van stopped and Neal was hustled into a building and forced into a seat.

 

Neal sat still, listening. Silence.

Finally, a sound. Two sets of footsteps. One wore boots and had quick, sure steps. Evenly spaced. A military man? The other trod more softly, but with just as much determination.

“How come they were that thirsty,” a voice asked.

“Adjusted the heater in the transporter,” a second voice replied cheerfully. “28 degrees Celsius and rising.”

“Resourceful,” the first voice said admiringly. “So they’ll go home, feel tired and sleep it off? Are you sure they won’t remember? We wouldn’t want them come looking for a job.”

“I made that mistake once,” the second voice said. “They won’t remember a thing. Let’s see to our guest, I’m sure he’s thirsty, too.”

At long last, somebody removed the cover.

Neal drew a deep breath. Fresh air, heavenly after the stale smell of the blanket. “Thank you,” he said sarcastically, eyeing the two men in front of him.

Just who were they? He was certain he had never seen either of them before. Not Keller, then. That was a relief.

The one man wore a gray pinstripe suit, waistcoat, red shirt and a silk tie with a Pratt knot. Damn smart. Neal knew he himself looked rather ruffled, and felt a little stab of envy at the other man’s cool calm. 

The other guy. Now, there was a sight. Tall and ridiculously handsome, he had dark hair, blue eyes, a straight nose, and a firm mouth. He wore a long coat – English Air Force? – and had an air of perpetual amusement. With a saucy wink, he settled behind the large desk Neal faced.

“Ianto will take the fetters off,” Air Force guy said in an American accent. “Please don’t try anything funny, he’ll have your wrist broken before you can say FBI.”

Ah, Neal realized – the second voice.

Ianto gave a thin smile. “I don’t actually need to break any bones to restrain you, Mr. Caffrey.”

The first voice he’d heard. Neal rolled his eyes and addressed the other man. “I saw your gun. I’m not that stupid.”

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness. We have a suggestion for you, Mr. Caffrey.”

Had he heard that name before? Read it somewhere? Neal shelved the thought for later and raised his eyebrows. “All this for a mere suggestion? You could have tried the phone.”

The Captain smirked. “What, with the FBI listening in? I’d rather not, thanks all the same.”

“Which reminds me,” Ianto said calmly. “When we invited you here, you lost your mobile, Mr. Caffrey. Here it is.”

Neal pocketed his cell-phone, keeping his face blank. Damn, he had so hoped they hadn’t noticed that he had dropped it when they grabbed him. Why did they give it back to him? Was he going to get a chance to use it?

He used the opportunity to look around the room. It was large, they were in one corner. There was the huge desk with a chair behind it. Apart from a laptop, there was nothing on the desk, not even a piece of paper.

“The English have a funny way of inviting people over,” Neal said. “Didn’t know they had US citizens in the English Air Force.”

Captain Harkness shrugged. “I kept the coat when the war ended. It’s practical.”

There was a soft, suppressed sound from Ianto, and Neal resolved to keep watching this guy. He carried himself like a butler, but there was obviously more to him than met the eye.

“What war was that,” Neal asked, just to keep the conversation going and maybe find out a little more. If he ever made it out of here, he wanted these bastards in the slammer!

“The second,” Captain Harkness replied. “Now, let’s discuss your problem.”

“My problem,” Neal repeated, privately wondering which second war Harkness was referring to. Iraq? “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Surprising him, Harkness smiled widely, appraising him with rather obvious appreciation. “Can’t argue with that, can we, Ianto?”

“Jack.” Just one word, but the tone was an odd mixture of indulgence and exasperation.

The smile widened. “You have to admit, he’s cute.”

“He’s hot. He’s also straight,” Ianto said, and Neal thought he detected some satisfaction there. Poor Ianto.

“Labels. Boxes. Boring!”

Ianto sighed. “Quit flirting, Jack. You’re probably scaring the man.”

“Doesn’t strike me as easily unsettled,” Harkness said comfortably. “Am I scaring you, Neal?”

“I’m used to turning down your type,” Neal replied evenly.

Left eyebrow rising, the Captain asked, “What’s my type, then?”

“The type that bites off more than they can chew. Captain.” Neal smiled.

Harkness laughed; Neal thought it was a very pleasant sound. So, the man wasn’t easily offended.

“I’m sure this is fun for everyone,” Ianto said coldly. “We don’t have the time, Jack. Get on with it.”

Ianto walked down the length of the room – such a large room, part of a warehouse perhaps? – and vanished into an alcove.

 

Neal watched him go, and then looked at Captain Harkness. He was in time to see the fondness in his expression before the man met his eyes and promptly wiped the look off his face, smiling pleasantly.

“Ianto is right, we don’t have time. So. Your problem.”

Neal frowned. “The only problem I have is the fact that I can’t just walk out of here. Captain.”

Harkness raised the left brow. It was his tell, Neal realized. Now, he needed to find out what it told him.

“That is a misconception, Neal. Can I call you Neal?”

Neal shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Neal it is. Or do you prefer Richard? David? Angus?”

This time, Neal had trouble keeping his face expressionless. Not even Peter knew these aliases. Neither did Mozzie. How had they found out?

Harkness grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Surprised? We have our sources. Better ones than the FBI.”

“Your suggestion?” Neal wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of asking for his sources. He would have to kill those aliases as soon as possible.

“You just found out that the FBI is not willing to set you free,” Harkness said calmly. “How do feel about that?”

“What do you think,” Neal shot back.

The Captain nodded. “They will never let you go, do you realize that? This time, the excuse was your escape to Cape Verde. Next time, it will be the two million dollars you stole from that doctor. They’ve got enough on you to keep you in chains for the next twenty years. They will keep collecting evidence against you even while you work for them. You’re not going to get away from them.”

Neal bit his lip. He couldn’t help himself. Hearing things like that from Mozzie was one thing. Mozzie just didn’t trust the Suits. But hearing it from a perfect stranger? It stung. Worse, Neal knew it stung because it had a ring of truth to it.

“Only Peter knows about that money,” he said defensively, almost groaning when he saw that it was an admission. Damn, he was digging himself into a hole here.

Harkness sighed. “Peter files reports, Neal. He is one of the few fairly honest agents, so he puts everything into those reports. Even when things are not exactly in your favor.”

Neal shrugged. “Your point?”

“My point,” Captain Harkness grinned. “This is where we come in. Come work with us.”

With us, he said. Not for us. Peter always made it a point to say that Neal worked for him. Of course, this might just mean that Harkness was a little less honest than Peter.

“You seem to have all the arguments on your side,” Neal said, eyeing the tall glass of water Ianto placed in front of him. Nice cold water, condensation was running down the sides. He was so thirsty, but heaven knew what was in that water.

Harkness sighed. “Ianto. Bottled water for our guest please. Neal doesn’t trust us enough to drink from that glass.”

Ianto shrugged and moved the glass over to Harkness, who gave him an indulgent smile.

“You know I’m a con-artist. What does the Air Force want with me?”

“Not the Royal Air Force,” Captain Harkness said. “I tell you more about us if you agree to work with us.”

Neal shrugged. “And if I don’t?”

“Then somebody will find you, nicely tied up with the blanket back over your head. Alive and kicking, obviously. The FBI will get this, and you can go back into slavery,” Ianto said pleasantly, returning with a bottle of water for him and showing him a video of his kidnapping.

Neal swallowed. They thought ahead. With a sinking feeling, he thought that the FBI would have considerable trouble catching these guys. Not many people would’ve spotted the dropped phone, or covered their tracks like they did.

Ianto moved away from him, standing next to the Captain’s chair.

“Drink, you need to hydrate,” Captain Harkness said mildly. “Please understand that we are not threatening you, and we have no reason to tamper with your water.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Neal muttered, finally uncapping the bottle after a close examination, and taking a long draught. He closed his eyes in appreciation as the cool water moistened his mouth and eased his sore throat. “You gave somebody a drug to make them forget things. Will that happen to me?”

The Captain nodded. “Yes. If you don’t want the job, you will forget this conversation, you will forget about us. I don’t like it, but too many people already know about our organization. We have to be careful.”

Neal shrugged. “I’ll just lose the memory?”

“Nothing else, I swear,” Harkness said, his expression sincere. Just how good an actor was he, Neal wondered. Could one believe that sincerity?

“What is it you want me to work on?”

“I need you to copy a painting. Then we have to swap them over.”

Neal raised his brows. “That sounds a little too easy. What’s the catch?”

Ianto grinned. “It’s in a vault. Under the Tower of London.”

Harkness shrugged. “You like a bit of a challenge, right Neal?”

Damn. Actually, yes. He did like a challenge. Fancy that – breaking into the Tower! That would be quite something. Another feather in his cap. Neal suppressed the familiar feeling of anticipation, hoping to avoid the heady rush of adrenaline that would follow in its wake. Adrenaline sometimes made him careless.

“And once that’s done?”

“Faking IDs, helping us get into high-security buildings, that sort of thing.”

Ah! Neal sat back in his chair. “You’re a con-man.”

Harkness laughed. He seemed to laugh a lot. “Takes one to know one,” he grinned. “Used to be a con-man. Cleaned up my act. And now I want to help you do the same.”

Neal tilted his head. “Why, though? You don’t know me from a hole in the wall.”

That left eyebrow was on the rise again. Intrigue, Neal realized. That lift of the eyebrow meant that Captain Harkness was intrigued and was becoming more interested. Even more interested?

“We’ve been watching you for a while, ever since you started working for Agent Burke. They’re wasting your talents. We had meant to contact you sooner, but…”

The Captain trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes.

Ianto regarded him with obvious concern, and after a long moment, flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the Captain’s sleeve. Harkness blinked, a bit startled. The two men exchanged a look that made Neal feel lonely.

Harkness drew a deep breath, and emptied his glass in two deep swallows.

“Right now, what are the chances you’ll say yes?”

Neal met his eyes. “Slim to none. You just said you want to help me clean up my act. How can I do that if I’m working for a con?” 

“As I said, I’m not a con anymore. We can get you out of here. Once you’re working with us, you’re out of reach of the FBI, and any other law enforcement agency.”

Neal frowned. “Nobody has that kind of clout.”

Searchingly, Harkness met his eyes. Neal looked back, holding the steady gaze.

The Captain sighed. “Ianto. Can I have some more water, please?”

Ianto picked up the glass and returned quickly with a refill for the Captain and a fresh bottle for Neal.

Neal accepted it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“It gets hot under these blankets,” Ianto smiled.

Harkness shot him a questioning look.

“Stands to reason,” Ianto said.

Harkness nodded.

How he missed this – easy camaraderie, immediate understanding, simple affection. For the first two years or so, it had been like this at the FBI. Now? Not so much. Too much suspicion. 

Mozzie was a good friend. The best. And Peter was his friend. Right? Neal sighed.

“You’re not giving it any serious consideration because you think the FBI will come for you,” Harkness said. “They won’t. You’ve known Burke for years – we cut your anklet, what will he think? Especially after he told you not to do anything crazy.”

“He knows I wouldn’t run. Not now,” Neal said with more conviction than he actually felt. How did they know what Peter had said to him?

Shaking his head, Harkness sighed again. Sipping his water, he spoke to Ianto. “I hate doing this.”

“Needs must,” Ianto said calmly. “I’d want to know, and so would you.”

Shrugging, the Captain turned, flicking a switch on an odd wrist-strap he wore. The laptop flickered into life. 

Impressive, but he could have just hit a few keys on the computer. Show-off, Neal thought – and realized with a start that the thought was already tinged with fondness. What the hell was the matter with him? Stockholm syndrome? So soon?

Startled, Neal stared at the small screen. Peter. And Mozzie. In the FBI building. Mozzie saying that he knew all about Peter’s interrogation techniques. And Peter… had Peter just said that he’d run? Mozzie, insisting that Neal wouldn’t go anywhere without him. Which was the truth, he wouldn’t. And still, Peter insisted that he had run.

“Turn that off,” Neal said wearily. “How did you get that?”

“You’ll find out. If you accept our offer.”

Neal took a deep breath. “You need to tell me more. You keep saying us and our, but I have the feeling you are the one man running the whole show.”

“You really are good,” Harkness said. “I have to admit, I don’t quite know how this happened, but yes, I’m running the show.”

“A show that includes forged paintings and fake IDs, and breaking and entering. How is that going to help me clean up?”

Questions. So many questions. And yet… if these men could make true on the promise to get him away from the FBI, he was already sorely tempted to take their offer, just to spite Peter. After all these years, he still didn’t know better? Expecting, demanding his trust – but giving little to none in return.

He had tried to be loyal, had even defended Peter to Mozzie… but now the bitterness at the idea of a rigged game began to take over. Had the game been rigged from the start? Had Peter guessed or maybe even known?

Harkness looked up at Ianto, who shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a pound, Jack. You have to tell him more. We’ll just need a higher dosage of retcon.”

So - Ianto had a say in this? Needle them and he might find out.

“Always best to listen to your butler,” Neal said with a friendly smile.

Harkness snorted. “Butler? Are you the butler, Ianto?”

“I’m the archivist, Neal. I’m also the one who’ll haul your ass out of trouble if need be. Don’t call me butler, and don’t call me tea-boy. Only one man got away with that, and he’s dead. My name is Jones, Ianto Jones. Are we clear?”

“Jones. Ianto Jones. We’re clear,” Neal said, seeing a core of steel under the fancy suit and the impeccable manners.

Ianto nodded his satisfaction, and there was a smile tugging at the Captain’s mouth.

“What happened to him,” Neal asked.

“Long story,” Ianto said, glancing at Harkness. “No time for that, not now.”

“Torchwood. Outside the government, beyond the police,” Harkness said. It sounded like a quote. Like something he had said often.

“Not another secret service,” Neal groaned. “Really, outside the government? How is that possible?”

The Captain shrugged. “Queen Victoria. Founded Torchwood, charged us with defending the nation.”

“You had Homeland Security before we did,” Neal shook his head.

“If you want to put it that way, yes.”

“I’m part of a team. I’m not leaving Mozzie behind.”

Harkness sat forward. “Look, Neal. If the FBI had been straight with you, you’d be rid of the damn anklet by now. Had that happened, we would have left you to it. But Mozzie – we would’ve asked him.”

“Now you’re asking me,” Neal frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“You had a chance at a normal life. I wouldn’t take that away. But now it’s obvious that you’re not getting that chance. You needed Mozzie to balance the FBI; I wasn’t going to rob you of his support. This is why I haven’t approached him yet. I think once Mozzie finds out more about us, he’d say yes.”

Neal stared at the wall, weighing his options. Finally, he said, “Let me get this straight. You get me out of the country. You give me a job. Then what?”

Harkness gestured. “Here’s what you’re not getting. No anklet. No two-mile radius. No handler. No attempts to trip you up. You are getting a reliable team, decent wages, and your freedom.”

“As long as I work for you. I don’t see how that is so different from the FBI,” Neal sighed.

That left eyebrow again. “If you want out, you tell me. You’ll get a new identity in the country of your choice.”

Neil stared at the other man. “Just like that? Too good to be true. And if I think that, then it definitely is too good to be true.”

Harkness threw up his hands in exasperation. “You were right, Ianto. He’s driving me nuts. Let me go bring the lady. You talk to him.”

Then the Captain glared at Neal. “Don’t do anything crazy, Neal. Stay put. If you really don’t want the job, we will let you go. Just please don’t jump out of any windows, we’re on the sixth floor. And you didn’t bring your parachute.”

Harkness left the room, long strides swiftly reaching a door at the other end.

“Impulsive,” Neal commented. So they knew about the base-jumping incident, as well.

“He’s uneasy. Doesn’t much care for the – what do you call them – the Suits,” Ianto explained.

Neal nodded. “So, did he kidnap you to work for him?”

Ianto grinned. “No. I kept at him.”

“Because he’s hot?”

“No,” Ianto shook his head. “I had nowhere else to go. He didn’t want me, though.”

“In the end, he did hire you. How did you manage that?”

Ianto smirked. “I gave him a pteranodon. He couldn’t resist that.”

Neal nodded. “I can imagine. Pretty decent bribery. Flying reptiles, only about 1,200 of their skeletons known to science. Hard to come by. How did you get it?”

“Persistence and chocolate,” Ianto laughed.

“I imagine it was a bit more difficult than that,” Neal grinned. 

Ianto smiled. “Wait and see.”

Neal nodded again, growing serious. “You seem to think it’s a good idea if I join Torchwood. Why?”

Ianto studied him for a long moment. Surprisingly, the long, searching look made Neal a bit uncomfortable and he had to be careful not to let it show. Looking back at Harkness was way easier, somehow.

“The painting. He needs it to help a friend. Like you, he’ll do anything for his friends. That’s his reason. My reason? He could do with somebody like you. You’ll give him a run for his money.”

“Keep him entertained,” Neal frowned.

“Wouldn’t put it that way, but – yes. He broods. You’d be able to put a stop to that.”

“Ianto. Can I be honest here,” Neal asked.

Ianto nodded readily. “Go ahead.”

“People. Watching them, understanding them. That’s part of the job description for me, right? You resent that friend of his. Don’t let him see it.”

“I know. I won’t. Said friend? I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him. I should be dead, and yet, I’m not. Alone in the dark, that creeps me out. Something else Jack must not see. Keeping me alive, that’s something else he can dangle over Jack’s head. It’s not fair.”

“He gets the painting, he’ll back off?”

“If only it were that simple,” Ianto sighed. “Why do you hesitate? Is it so much fun wearing a collar?”

“I owe Peter,” Neal said simply.

Ianto shook his head. “Do you really, Neal? He got you out of jail. In return, you helped him solve over 90 percent of his cases. The way I see it, he owes you. In jail, you’d not have to work. No FBI agent rushing into your flat because you were sitting still for too long. Nobody to come after you with a gun, or bow and arrow.”

“All true,” Neal sighed. “But it’s fun. I love it when I can solve a puzzle.”

“Plenty of puzzles where I come from,” Ianto said. “And Jack won’t turn up in the middle of the night with a new anklet for you, because there will be no anklet. Regular flights to Paris or Rome from Cardiff.”

“How do you know all that,” Neal asked.

“I know everything,” Ianto deadpanned.

“I meant, about Peter dropping in late at night. Stuff like that.”

 

“I told him,” June said.

Neal jumped up. “June! She has nothing to do with this. You’ve got to let her go.”

Damn, what had he been thinking? Right up to this moment, he had actually entertained the hope that these were decent people. And now? 

“Drama queen,” Captain Harkness grimaced. “You sure you’re straight?”

June laughed – laughed! – and slapped his arm. “Behave yourself, Jack.”

Jack grinned down at her. “Impossible with a gorgeous lady like you around. You haven’t changed one bit.”

June smiled at him; with so much fondness that Neal realized she had known this man for a long time. “Liar. You’re always so kind. But such a liar.”

Jack shook his head. “I tell it as I see it.”

“Byron was ever so fond of him,” June smiled at Neal. “I was fond of him.”

“I never knew that,” Jack said, feigning surprise.

“June,” Neal said pleadingly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

June laid a hand on his cheek. “Calm down, Neal. Torchwood really wants to help you.”

Jack brought his chair over for her. “We’ll leave you to it, yeah?”

June nodded. “I’ll explain.”

Neal watched as Jack and Ianto left the room together, their hands brushing.

“Grown men,” Neal muttered. “He calls me a drama queen?”

“Be kind, Neal,” June said warmly. “He thought he had lost Ianto. He still can’t quite believe that he got him back.”

“How long have you known him for? You’re obviously fond of him,” Neal asked.

June pulled an old photo from her handbag. Neal recognized her, of course. And Byron, whom he had seen pictures of. They were so young! From their outfits, this had to be the late Fifties. The third person – he looked like Captain Harkness. Impossible, of course, because he looked as young now as he did in the photo. His father? Yet, he was wearing that stupid coat.

“That’s Jack,” June said softly. “He confided in me that he was already over a hundred years old when that photo was taken.”

“He sure gets a lot of mileage out of that coat.” Neal shook his head. “June. No way. Has he found the fountain of eternal youth or something?”

June sighed. “Worse. He cannot die.”

“That’s a bit much to take in, June. What are you saying?”

“Well, he can die,” June whispered. “But he can’t stay dead. You shoot him, he comes back to life. He drowns, he wakes up again. They shot down his plane in World War Two. It burned. He came crawling out of the ashes.”

Neal sighed. “Sounds terrible. Don’t tell Mozzie. He’ll want to vivisect him.”

June nodded. “That’s exactly what the FBI wants to do if they could get their hands on him. Or the CIA. Or any other government organization. He had to get back to Europe shortly after that photo was taken because they had spotted him. For him to come here to talk to you, he really wants you.”

“Because he wants me to forge a painting.”

June shook her head. “When we met in that thrift shop? He had asked me to get to know you. He knew you like fancy clothes, so I took some of Byron’s stuff. He wanted to know if you’re worth it. I knew the moment I saw you that you are so worth it, Neal. I told him to come get you then, but he wouldn’t. We thought the FBI would hold up their end of the bargain, and Jack said you should have a chance at leading a normal life.”

“That’s changed,” Neal sighed.

“Jack knew that they’d let you down again. That’s why he’s here.”

“Can I trust him? Do you trust him, June?”

“He saved Byron for me. He saved me, and my little girl. He makes sure there’s enough money in the bank, and somebody to help when I need it. I trust that man with my life, Neal. You can trust him.”

“He said he’d be willing to hire Mozzie,” Neal hesitated.

June laughed delightedly. “Mozzie will jump at the chance, Neal.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Tell Jack you want the job. He’ll tell you more about Torchwood. Mozzie’s gonna love it!”

 

Just at that moment, Jack and Ianto came back into the room.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “They’re closing in. I need that decision now, Neal.”

“If I say yes…”

“I’ll call Mozzie and get him to join us. We can be in the air in ninety minutes.”

Neal looked at June, taking a deep breath. He might never see his apartment again. Might never see June again.

“I’ll pack everything up and send it to you,” June promised. “Even the hidden stuff.”

Neal raised his brows, and June laughed.

“Dear boy. I own that house. I know all its secrets, from the printing plate inside the old table to the cranny behind the painting.”

Neal bit his lip, and then smiled. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Me, too,” June said, her eyes filling with tears.

“Come visit us,” Jack grinned. “I’ll keep the Weevils away from you, I promise.”

“God, yes. Do come and visit,” Neal begged, wondering why June had a problem with bugs.

Ianto nodded encouragingly. 

“Well, how can I say no to three such lovely men,” June smiled. “Next spring, yes?”

“We’ll hold you to that,” Jack said, nervously pressing some buttons on his wrist-strap.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” June said. “Tell Mozzie I said hello.”

“I’ll give you a lift,” Ianto offered. “See you at the airport, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “Perception filter, remember!”

“You remember,” Ianto said. “It’s not me they’re after.”

“They get you, they’ve got me,” Jack said. “Be safe.”

June hugged first Neal, then Jack. “I’ll see you boys in spring. Have a safe trip!”

Jack pulled out his cell and speed-dialed. Standing next to him, Neal could hear Mozzie’s voice.

“I don’t recognize this number. If I don’t know your voice, I’m hanging up.”

“Captain Jack Harkness. Mozzie, do you want to work with Torchwood?”

A long moment of silence. “Is this a joke? Anyway, I can’t. I have to find my friend.”

Jack grinned and handed Neal the phone.

“Mozzie? I’m standing right next to Captain Harkness. Not kidding.”

“Neal? You’re okay! Are you okay? Are you coming with us?”

“I’m okay, and I’m in if you are, Mozzie,” Neal grinned.

“Neal. Do you even know what Torchwood is?”

“No time to find out. Get to the airport, we’ll meet you there.”

Jack took the phone back. “Private plane. Skyports, it’s a Hawker 4000. Codename Victoria. No time to pack; get there as fast as you can.”

“This is for real? Neal?”

Taking the phone back, Neal said, “It’s real. June said you’d jump at the chance.”

Mozzie laughed. Neal smiled. He hadn’t heard Mozzie laugh like that since Cape Verde. Carefree. Happy.

“I’m on my way, Neal. You might want to find out a bit more about Torchwood on the way to the airport.”

 

Neal had travelled shot-gun in a lot of cars. Some of the drivers had been a little… careless. 

But this was something else. A whole new level of excitement. The rush had his pulse throbbing hard in his throat, the blood singing in his ears.

Captain Harkness was navigating New York traffic as if other cars didn’t exist. He didn’t seem to know what speed limits or streetlights were for. And somehow, he managed to ditch every single police car that followed them.

By the time they reached the airport, Neal was out of breath, laughing wildly, with tears lurking just beneath the surface because he felt truly alive for the first time in years. He was getting free!

They got out of the car, and when their eyes met over the roof, Jack winked at him. Neal was suddenly certain that he had made the right decision.

 

Heading to the plane, they saw that several police cars were blocking it.

Neal felt the disappointment keenly; it had all been too good to be true.

Jack laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Not to worry. Get onboard. I’ll deal with this.”

He spotted Mozzie waving wildly at him from the door, so Neal kept walking. Ianto met him at the gangway. 

Together they watched Jack show the senior officer some sort of identity card. He studied it, then backed off and waved the cars away. They all left, and Neal took a deep breath.

Jack joined them, grinning. 

“Psychic paper,” Ianto asked.

“Psychic paper,” Jack confirmed, still smiling. “Let’s take off, shall we?”

They turned, about to board. 

 

Suddenly, Neal heard Peter’s voice. “Neal! Don’t do that!”

“Get up here,” Mozzie said urgently. “You won’t be on US ground anymore.”

Jack shook his head. “We don’t need tricks like that. You want to say goodbye, Neal?”

Neal hesitated, then nodded.

“Give him some space,” the Captain commanded. Ianto went up the gangway to stand in the door with Mozzie, but Captain Harkness stopped halfway up and turned back.

Peter approached, staring up at the Captain. “Captain Harkness. You’re under arrest.”

Neal shook his head. That was typical.

Captain Harkness laughed. “So come and get me, Agent Burke.”

Peter faced Neal. “Don’t do this, Neal. We can still sort something out. You’re throwing everything away.”

Neal sighed. “You have promised to sort something out so often, Peter. And each time, I was worse off than before. I want my freedom. I need my freedom.”

“You worked hard. You only have a couple of months to go. It’s not worth leaving. Especially not with him. He’s on the FBI’s most wanted list, did you know?”

So that’s how he had known the name. Neal shook his head. “You forget, Peter. I’ve been there. I’ve seen that list. He’s not on it. He’s on the secret most wanted list. The one only FBI Special Agents are supposed to know about.”

Peter bit his lip. “You really weren’t supposed to know that. Look, I’ll let him go for now. Just you come back with me.”

“And then what, Peter?”

“Like I said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Agent Burke. Tell Neal about the conversation you had with Agent Kramer earlier today,” Jack suggested.

Kramer was involved again? Neal looked at Peter, expecting him to deny the charge.

“Stay out of this, Harkness,” Peter snarled. “I’m doing my best for Neal here.”

“Your best is not good enough.” Neal looked up at Jack, who held out his hand. “Your choice, Neal.”

“I’ll miss you,” Peter said. “Please stay.”

Neal blinked away tears. “I can’t. I don’t trust the FBI anymore. And what is worse, I can’t trust you. Goodbye, Peter.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Peter said. “If you take another step, I’ll have to arrest you.”

Jack jumped down and shoved Peter away, blocking his access to the gangway. “Go, Neal.”

Neal took one more look at the man he had considered a friend, remembering a similar scene. That plane had blown up without him, because then, he had turned back to Peter. This time, he boarded the plane without looking back.

 

Getting ready for take-off, they all fastened their seat-belts.

“So,” Neal said. “What exactly is Torchwood?”

“Torchwood. Outside the government, beyond the police. Fighting for the future on behalf of the human race. The 21st century is when everything changes. And Torchwood is ready,” Mozzie said, sounding awed.

“You better believe it,” Captain Jack laughed. “We are so ready! Are you ready, Neal?”

Neal smiled. Yes. Oh yes. He was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> The story won't leave me alone. I'm writing part two of the series as we speak.
> 
> I'd love some feedback. Obviously :-)


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